


The Lies We Live With

by bixgirl1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Intercrural Sex, Just the Tip, M/M, Pining, RST, UST, intragluteal sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 09:04:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13807980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bixgirl1/pseuds/bixgirl1
Summary: It doesn’t really count…is almost always followed by a lie, James learns, growing up.





	The Lies We Live With

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shiftylinguini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiftylinguini/gifts).



> For [shiftylinguini's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shiftylinguini/pseuds/shiftylinguini/works?fandom_id=136512) brilliant prompt, "Just The Tip" for the [2018 HP Kinkfest](https://hpkinkfest.tumblr.com/). ;)
> 
> Much thanks and much adoration to [lq_traintracks](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lumosed_quill/pseuds/lq_traintracks/works?fandom_id=136512) for the fabulous beta. <3
> 
> Characters belong to JK Rowling and associated publishers.

_It doesn’t really count…_ is almost always followed by a lie, James learns, growing up. 

_It doesn’t really count as a separation if I would be gone travelling anyway,_ his mum told him when he was nine, six months before she and his dad announced their divorce.

 _It doesn’t really count if I didn’t leave a bruise,_ Albus used to say when they were little and he got irritated with James’s chant of _It doesn’t count if I’m not touching you,_ while hovering a hand in front of his face.

 _It doesn’t really count if you didn’t mean to,_ Lily whispered, slipping her smaller hand into his after James accidentally upended an inkwell into the open box containing his mother’s wedding dress as they helped her move into her new flat. 

_It doesn’t really count as a date if Malfoy and I are just friends,_ his dad said with a laugh as he stared into the mirror and tried to fix his hair for the thousandth time. 

They’re gentler ways to skirt around the truth, rather than saying _Yes. Someone will be mad. Someone will get hurt. Someone is afraid._ But they’re all lies, nonetheless.

***

“Please,” James whispers, Teddy’s teeth light on the nape of his neck, breath damp and hot against his skin. He’s plastered James against the outside of the shower door, and from within the stall a warm steam starts to billow as the water heats up.

Teddy’s mouth moves away and James wants to sob at the loss of contact, though the firm press of Teddy’s hard chest is still fitted against James’s back, and his thick cock — it’s wet, oh _Merlin_ — rubs sinuously against his crease. His voice cracks against the back of James’s ear. “I can’t. I’m like your br—”

The sudden frustration James feels muffles his adoration and the crash of lust running through his body. He arches against Teddy’s cock. Teddy hisses, his teeth on James’s neck growing tighter, painful. Teddy presses a thumb against James’s cheek to open him up and James groans with relief and renewed anticipation. He whispers, “But you’re not.”

A low growl issues from Teddy’s throat; it vibrates against James, zinging pleasure to his cock against the glass shower door — warm now from steam and smeared with his precome. Teddy fits his prick between James’s arse cheeks; the thick, hot length of it slides up and down against his cleft, and James clenches in response. His hands are pressed flat against the glass, and he knows he shouldn’t move — it makes it too _real_ to Teddy, or something, when James touches him back — but he can’t resist reaching back to grip Teddy’s hip. Surprisingly, Teddy’s growl turns into a moan, and it sounds so much like the last time they did this that James wants to howl, wants to make demands, but he can barely process anything beyond the graze of Teddy’s shaft against his hole, beyond the way Teddy’s hand comes down to grip his wrist and return his hand to the door. Both of his hands come up to cover James’s, and his hips roll teasingly.

Except it’s not a tease, James knows. It’s Teddy, still caught in that place between want and conflict, between animal drive and his own stupid morals. 

It always happens like this.

***

“It doesn’t really count if we didn’t mean to,” Teddy mumbled, face blazing. “I didn’t even—”

James, still riding high on adrenaline, couldn’t think of what to say for a minute. Finally, he asked, “You didn’t even what?”

Teddy cleared his throat, slanting him a glance from under green lashes, and James wished he knew what _green_ meant; it wasn’t a colour he’d often seen before in Teddy’s ever-shifting hair. “We didn’t… I mean, it wasn’t a proper snog.”

Oh. 

It hadn’t been for lack of trying on James’s part, and he felt the sudden, inexplicable urge to laugh because the idea that it wasn’t a real kiss if they hadn’t used their tongues was beyond ridiculous. The kiss had lasted long minutes, Teddy’s arms braced tight around his waist, his breath on James’s cheek as their mouths pressed together again and again, warm and helpless. It had felt like more of a kiss than the hours of necking James had done with Jackson Witherby in the Quidditch locker rooms last year. That it happened by accident — Teddy leaning in for a hug and turning his head to kiss James’s cheek just as James had done the same, their mouths meeting in the middle for one startling, perfect second before Teddy’s arms had slid more fully around him to pull him close — seemed irrelevant. 

“Right,” James said, the bubble of laughter disappearing at the regret on Teddy’s face. “It doesn’t count if it was an accident.”

Teddy nodded, visibly relieved. His face lost some of its tension, and he sat down on the sofa suddenly, as though his knees had gone weak. His eyes, slipping from their rich, earthy brown to something that resembled James’s own hazel, turned apologetic. “I was just surprised,” he said, scraping a hand through hair that shuffled through various shades of green before melting into his standard turquoise. He sighed and quirked James a rueful smile. “You know how much you mean to me, right, Jamie?”

James sighed too, stomach twisting. Teddy was the only one who ever called him that anymore — the only one who was _allowed_ to, really; he wouldn’t respond when his parents or Al or Lily slipped. He sat down next to Teddy, wanting to argue, wanting to say, _Wait. Please, wait._ But Teddy’s face was so open in its remorse. 

If the accidental not-kiss was all James would ever get, he couldn’t bring himself to ruin it.

“I know, Teddy,” he said. He leaned back against the cushions. “It’s okay. It didn’t count.”

***

“Want,” Teddy mumbles under his breath. James somehow hears it over the beat of the water against the shower stall; he twists his neck to chance a look behind him. Teddy’s eyes are heavy lidded, hazel irises slowly shrinking as his pupil expands, filled with a mesmerising light. “Want to.”

“I know,” James says. His voice is rough, pleading for everything that Teddy wants to give him, but he’s not even sure Teddy can hear it. Whenever this happens, everything subtle about Teddy seems to fall away and James is left staring at the savage workings of his heart. Most people only see Teddy’s warmth, his bright hair and brighter laugh, the way he helps everyone around him. But James sees the rest. 

He sees it all.

“You can,” James breathes, then holds the air in his lungs for a dizzying moment. “Teddy, you _can_.”

Teddy’s hands slide from covering his, down over James’s forearms and biceps and shoulders, then finally down his torso, damp from the steam misting the entire room now, as well as their exertions. Teddy had nearly knocked him into the wall when James removed his towel, grappling with him, trying to put it back on him and cursing furiously until his hand coasted over James’s bobbing erection. Then he’d spun James, quick as the murmur of _Lumos_ , lighting up something dark inside him. 

His hands grip James’s ribcage, long fingers digging in possessively even as they travel lower to his waist and slip around to his stomach. James’s muscles flutter and jump under Teddy’s palms and Teddy seems to like it, groaning and curling tighter against him, the slow rut of his cock between James’s arse cheeks speeding up before he checks himself. “I can’t,” Teddy argues weakly. “We’re— Your—”

He never finishes these sentences, but it doesn’t matter, really. Teddy’s cock is so stiff, and each time it coasts off James’s hole, the foreskin dragging against his rim, James fails to stifle a gasp. His own cock is rock hard, caught between him and warm glass. He circles his hips against it just once more before moving them back to allow Teddy’s hand to wedge in. 

“Just one more time,” he pants as Teddy — almost hesitantly; he’s still fighting it — curls his fist around James’s cock. 

Teddy gnaws at his throat, teeth moving mindlessly up the line of it. His hair, a thrilling display of every shade of phoenix, shot through with strands of the pitchest black, tickles James’s jaw. James forces himself to concentrate — his dad once told him that the secret to wandless magic is simply _wanting_ something enough and knowing it — and murmurs the lubrication spell. Though he hadn’t complained, Teddy had been too lost to remember last time, and it feels even better with the lube.

James grunts when he feels the crevice of his arse slicken, when Teddy’s hand clenches around his prick. He pushes his arse back harder, expectant and pliant, against Teddy’s pelvic bone. This is the moment he really _needs_ to stay still; something primal in Teddy craves James’s submission. He’ll never ask for it, James knows, but he responds immediately to James’s acquiescence with a stuttered whine. He _needs_ James, but needs just as much to get this done fast, so he can pretend it wasn't on purpose.

“J-Jamie.” It sounds like a protest but isn’t one. Teddy reaches back down with his free hand, holding his cock and rubbing the tip of it through the silky lube with frantic deliberation. James feels Teddy fist it, once, twice, issuing low, needy grunts against the back of his ear, and then he lines up the flared, leaking tip of his prick. He pushes.

***

“It— it doesn’t really count if I d-don’t come while we—” Teddy said in a ragged pant as he worked over him, rutting between James’s thighs.

James threaded his fingers through Teddy’s sunset hair and yanked him down into another messy, desperate kiss. Teddy’s tongue was hot and slick and feverish sliding into his mouth, and their clothed stomachs rubbed James’s cock between the press of their bodies perfectly. It kept catching on the cotton of Teddy’s t-shirt, the fabric rucking up and down to allow for tantalising little rubs against the soft trail of hair and flat, tight muscles of Teddy’s belly. James’s jeans, shoved down to mid thigh, trapped him from being able to wind his legs around Teddy’s juddering hips, but he bucked up against him anyway, clenching his thighs and seeking more friction. Teddy moaned, rocking against him harder, his teeth digging into James’s lower lip hard enough to break the skin — which it did, as James came, cock spurting with fast jerks between them, balls prickling and high against his body. Teddy groaned at the sudden wetness; he pistoned his hips and then scrambled into a crouch, catching his own release in his fist with swift, straining pulls. James struggled up on his elbows, body still twitching, to watch.

“No,” Teddy said hoarsely. “Jamie—”

“Let me—” James reached for him.

“ _No,_ ” Teddy said again, harder and gruffer, genetics showing in the snarl of his lip and bared teeth for a moment rather than his hair. Heart trying to batter its way out of his throat, James obediently lay back and closed his eyes, drawing up his forearm over them. Teddy made a small, husky sound and rested a sticky-slick hand on James’s bare thigh for a second before pulling away as though burned. A gentle cleaning spell dried James’s shirt and stomach with a skitter of uneasy magic. 

Teddy stood, the rustle of clothing loud in their sudden silence. James lifted his hips and pulled up his pants and jeans, then flopped back, leaving them undone.

“I’m sorry,” Teddy said.

James snorted, fed up. “For what? If it doesn’t really count.”

“You and Al are like my— You’re so young, Jamie, and Harry—”

Mouth firming, James lifted his head and pinned him with a look. He hated green hair on Teddy, _hated_ it. “I’m eighteen and, and dad would want—”

“Don’t,” Teddy said. His voice was bleak enough to render James silent. “I should never… It’s like the steak. D’you remember?”

James nodded warily. Teddy took his steak almost raw; he refused to eat red meat in front of anyone else. The only time James could remember Teddy ever having yelled at him was one afternoon when he was ten and he’d walked in on what he thought was an empty house to find that Teddy was visiting, growling and almost _drooling_ as he hunched protectively over his plate, shoveling chunk after chunk of barely cooked steak into his mouth. He apologised to James later for scaring him, citing his parentage and explaining that sometimes he couldn’t help how he looked when he had to feed that side of himself, small though it was. James had been too fascinated to argue, not while Teddy was telling him things no one else knew. 

“So I’m your steak?”

Teddy groaned, the sound muffled by his hands, brought up to cover his face. He rubbed them there for a moment and reluctantly bobbed his head. For the first time, it made sense why Teddy had shown up out of the blue without Flooing first, especially since he’d stayed away for almost a whole week this time. He just wished he could convince him to stay a little longer. James sat up, checking the clock; Al and Lil were at his mum’s, and his dad and Draco weren’t due home for another two hours, but he knew Teddy would be long gone by the time they arrived. 

“Then it _doesn’t_ really count,” James lied. “Not if it’s just something that happens because you,” he paused, swallowing, “need it to. Because of that part of you.”

“It won’t happen again,” Teddy said stubbornly. “I won’t do that to you. Make you feel like you’re… steak.”

“I don’t mind. ...It feels good,” James said softly, only aware Teddy heard him by the flinch of his shoulders. James hesitated; sighed. “Okay. It won't happen again.”

***

“I need you,” James says unthinkingly, body strung tight as a bow.

The thick, blunt head of Teddy’s cock breaches him, pulling a deep, ragged groan from James’s throat. Teddy holds himself in place for a long moment, lanky body tight and shivering before it suddenly relaxes, tension leaking from his bones in a way it never has before when they’ve done this. He goes lax against James, everything but his cock and the hand around James’s erection softening, and he murmurs faintly, “Oh,” once — then again, lower and breathy, “ _Oh._ ”

He sounds like himself for once, feverish drive fading in a bare second, and James doesn't know what to make of it.

“Teddy,” he grits out. Teddy’s bite transforms into a kiss on his neck, sweet and gentle, and James can feel him stroke his own cock, pulling the tip just out before pushing forward to enter him again. James stays supple against him, against the repetitive burn of Teddy’s cockhead stretching him open. His rim is swollen, tender and hot and puffy from Teddy’s ministrations, and James wants to beg for more, for _deeper_ , but his nerves are dancing at the tease. It’s the most Teddy will do with him, but James can’t ever find it in his heart to complain because, _fuck_ , it’s so good. James _lives_ for this, for the sensation of Teddy’s body linked with his — for any small part Teddy will give him. 

“Tell me,” Teddy huffs surprisingly, “you love it.”

“I love it,” James says immediately, voice a high wheeze when Teddy swivels his hips, when he fists his own prick in a way that forces the ridge of it past the tight ring of muscle of James's rim. James moans, trying to stay still for it, but he can’t resist a small, side-to-side shimmy of his hips. Teddy laughs, startling him; James feels him work his hand back and forth on himself in the same, slow rhythm he uses to wank James, urgency gone as though this is the standard for them. He pries his chest from James’s back, pulling his mouth away from the arch of his neck. James swallows. “What are you—”

“Watching,” Teddy says, voice throaty and low. James licks his lips, suddenly uncertain. Because this is… new.

“Please,” he mumbles, face blazing hot even as his cock jerks in Teddy’s hand when he considers what Teddy must be seeing: his arsehole, flexing open and shut, stretching with each slow, deliberate push-pull of the tip of Teddy’s prick in and out of it. Teddy rubs the dribbling slit over his pucker. James whines, fucking into Teddy’s fist, and Teddy obligingly tightens his fingers around his cock, thumb manipulating the foreskin down and back. “Put it— put it back in.”

“Have you _any_ idea, Jamie?” Teddy asks him absently. He lines up his cock again, hips undulating back and forth as he pushes into James once more, fist butting against James’s buttocks to forestall deeper penetration. “What I could do to you? What I _want_ to do?”

“Anything, _anything_ ,” James babbles with a gasp, hips jerking, cock bound by Teddy’s grip. “All of it. Anything. I _need_ it. Need you.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me that before?” Teddy wonders aloud, and then resumes.

***

Bent over the kitchen table, James fixed his eyes on the wall as Teddy jerked his jeans down roughly and muttered something under his breath. A cool, drippy substance soaked James’s crease. It was a frantic, barely-there coupling just like it always was, but James’s eyes prickled with tears of pleasure when Teddy shoved in, the head of his prick pushing past all resistance. It was uncomfortable, god yes, but the warmth of it, the wetness of Teddy’s slit just before his cock opened him up, was _perfect._ James breathed through the discomfort, jaw tight and air drawing out slow through his nostrils when Teddy halted just inside him, one hand splayed on the small of his back.

“I shouldn't—” Teddy began, voice shuddery with the lingering shreds of his restraint.

“Don’t stop,” James whispered. The girth of Teddy’s cockhead, something he’d only seen in quick glimpses before Teddy had him flat or covered himself up, was so thick just on its own, James couldn't help wondering what it’d be like if... It occurred to him that if he begged a little, maybe Teddy would bottom out in him for once; maybe he wouldn’t be able to resist that one long slide of his prick into James. He could bare his throat, even; Teddy went wild when he did that, some pheromone from James’s sweat tweaking his instincts. It was what had gotten them this far in the first place. 

But he didn’t want it to happen like that — if it ever happened at all — and anyway, as Teddy wanked the rest of his own shaft, crown of his prick firmly embedded into James, the bunching of his foreskin stretched James’s arsehole even further; it was more than enough. James wiggled his hips; his cock was _dripping_ with clinging strings of precome, and if he let himself think about it he’d be embarrassed, perhaps. But his mind was mute of any rational thought beyond _Don’t let him leave_ , and he reached back desperately, his nails scrabbling at Teddy’s waist. 

“It doesn’t count,” he croaked. “Not if you need it. I don’t— I’m so close, Ted.”

Teddy snarled at that, his hand coming down to cup James’s bollocks and squeeze them, almost too tight. But the pleasure-pain was _just_ what James needed, he found as Teddy rocked that inch or two in and out of him, his free hand bumping against James’s arse with each swift stroke. James gripped far edge of the table with one hand, found his bobbing cock, and began pulling with a low gasp.

Hunching over him, hips and hand moving fast, Teddy dropped his forehead between James’s shoulder blades; his forehead was damp with sweat. Each time he worked the slippery head of his cock inside him, James felt his own cock twitch, grow, harden. The kitchen table skidded on the floor under them, issuing screechy little sounds and knocking into the wall with subtle thumps. And then James’s balls throbbed and he came with a low groan, almost sobbing with frustration when Teddy yanked himself out once more. 

The slapping sound of skin on skin seemed loud as his come splattered the floor and dripped onto his lowered jeans. He felt the warm stripes of Teddy’s spunk over his back, over his arse, even dripping into his cleft, but that wasn’t what he _wanted_ , dammit, he’d wanted—

***

“Why, Jamie?” Teddy asks again insistently.

James freezes at the question, muscles quivering. His thighs ache with a delicious burn, just like his arsehole. Teddy either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, working the tip of his prick in James again; then he stills, and the silence feels expectant.

“I—” This is so different, so unexpected, that James doesn’t know what to say; doesn’t know what response won’t result in this being over too soon. Teddy loosens his hold on his own prick and squeezes his hip; James could thrust back against him now, if he had a mind to. He could impale himself on that hard length that’s so fascinated him, that he’s been so _tormented_ with wanting over the last year — longer than that, even, if he’s truthful with himself. But he just shivers when Teddy skims his hand up from James’s hip to his ribs, then inward with a tender slide of his palm over James’s chest. He yelps, body seizing up at an abrupt tweak of Teddy’s fingers over his nipple.

“Answer me.”

“Fuck,” James says. Teddy catches his nipple, already painfully budded, between his index and middle fingers. He clamps them again around it and tugs. James pants, hips squirming. “You didn’t want me to n-need it, too. You’d— You’d stop, if I did.”

“I would?” Teddy laughs again, a sound that’s wholly amused, yet somehow contains no humour in it. The hand on James’s cock gives a tiny clench around the base, and a moan rips from deep in James’s throat. He cranes his head nervously. Teddy’s eyes have paled to the same hazel shot with green as his own. His hair has melted back to turquoise; it’s highlighted by damp fuschia strands. James turns away again, shivering when Teddy leans forward and licks at a rivulet of sweat sliding down James’s throat. His tone is exasperated; fond. “Jamie, you idiot. I couldn’t stay away even thinking you were mostly just doing it to _help_.”

James jerks, Teddy’s cock popping out of him. He blinks a sting out of his eyes, resolutely facing the shower. The fog has thinned a little, the room temperature cooling against the sweat on their bodies. “I— I always wanted—”

Teddy’s hand, looser around his prick, tightens again. He catches James’s hip and leads him back, slipping a hand down to squeeze his buttock in a gentle rub before opening him back up. His words are heated, slow and sweet as treacle. “What do you want, Jamie?” 

He runs the tip of his cock down James’s crease, barely brushing over the pliant, crinkled skin of his hole, all the way down to his bollocks. There he stays for a moment, massaging James’s perineum with his prick. James shudders out a breath and rises onto the balls of his feet for better leverage to push back against it, his fingers curling against the glass of the shower door. Then Teddy guides it up, _up_ , damp and calculated. He circles James’s aching entrance, fits his shaft between his cheeks again for a brief grind. “If I can take my time with you,” he murmurs, “what do you want? Do you want a nice, deep fuck? Want me to take you to that new bed of yours and push it in? Want to feel me all the way inside?” He mouths at the bend of James’s neck, as if James needs persuading. “I’ll make it good for you. Whatever you want.”

James forces himself to swallow past the dryness in his throat as he remembers asking for Teddy’s help moving into his first flat — remembers the trepidation on Teddy’s face, and the quick, determined nod that swiftly followed. Remembers that this is what he’d been _hoping_ for when he said he needed a shower, when he’d tilted his head back within scenting distance of Teddy, when he’d dropped his towel with the loo door wide open. 

“No,” James blurts; his voice is raw and strange to his own ears. Teddy pauses, mouth lingering, open and wet, on the teeth marks he left on James’s nape. James tilts his hips back, clenching his arse. He shakily reaches down and covers Teddy’s hand on him, stiltedly resuming Teddy’s strokes. “I want— Just like— Only—”

“Mmm.” The acknowledgement of his incoherent wants vibrates against James; Teddy pulls at James’s cock steadily and aims his own back into position. It goes in easy, James’s hole readily accepting Teddy’s glans just past the ridge. Teddy nudges it a tiny bit deeper, his lips curling into the shape of a smile. He moans, picking up a rhythm as he wanks them in tandem, and James already feels so full, so delirious with desire, he can’t even contemplate what it will be like when they finally _do_ get to a nice, deep fuck. He may not even rush it, not when _this_ feels as delicious as it does.

“ _Need you_ ,” James mutters again brokenly, his adrenaline still running high and hot, confusion seeping away in the excessive time Teddy takes, the control he exhibits for once. He rolls his hips back and forth into this new gentle touch, this tease that actually _is_ one for once. “Please…”

“Yeah, Jamie,” Teddy says gruffly. He flutters a kiss against James’s spine. “I’ll take care of you.”

James nods weakly against the door, hair plastered to his scalp. Teddy’s hand runs up over James’s prick, thumb taking precious seconds to fondle his foreskin over the head before dragging it damply back each time. His shallow penetration is guided by their carefully connected bodies rather than his buffer of a fist for the first time, and James’s climax, held off too long at this point, finally starts to rise again. Teddy seems to sense it even before his cock throbs and hardens further — maybe smells it on James’s skin, maybe senses the shiver of intention rippling through his spine — and he adjusts his firm grip to a better angle and starts tugging it skillfully, even as his lips continue their tender navigation over James’s shoulders and back. 

“I’m _coming_ ,” James rasps out, ankles twisting when it starts, cock jerking again and again in Teddy’s hand. He rolls his head to the side, cheek pressed against the glass; he gasps, spilling over Teddy’s knuckles and his own, lax now over Teddy’s fist. “Please,” he remembers, “please don’t—”

But Teddy _isn’t_. He _isn’t_ pulling away as James’s arse clenches around the head of his cock. Instead, he braces his free hand against the glass, bicep bunching against the outside of James’s shoulder, and holds himself in place. Then he removes his hand from James’s prick to flatten it against the glass too, panting harshly as he seeks his own release with subtle, shallow rolls inside him — _inside,_ James thinks. Teddy’s chin, propped on James’s shoulder, moves a little; he exhales with a soft cry and then James feels the shock of warm wetness washing into him, spurting and immediately seeping out and slipping down his crack. 

“Jamie,” Teddy says in that same voice, drunkenly slurred, a little high, “Jamie, I’m—”

“ _Fuck!_ ” Groaning, James barely registers as his still-hard prick starts to pulse again, dribbling out a second, weaker orgasm with no stimulation beyond the wetness of Teddy’s come, beyond the teeth that turn biting again on the back of his neck. His spine bows inward. Teddy hisses, keeping him from moving away with the force of his bite, and James sobs, “ _Yes, oh god,_ ” just once before going still. 

Teddy sighs and unlatches his teeth over James’s neck. It hurts, but he feels indelibly _marked_ by it, this small claim that Teddy isn’t apologising over. His cock slips from James, disconnecting them, and James allows his body to sag a little. Teddy wraps a forearm around his waist and moves him into the shower; the water has cooled, but even as James blinks up at the spray, Teddy adjusts the taps and it heats again. He draws James closer and looks at him, eyes his own rich, warm brown; he hesitates for a moment, then kisses him. 

“It doesn’t really count if I didn’t fuck you deep,” Teddy says thoughtfully when he pulls away.

James snorts and shoves him a little. Helplessly, he smiles. “Dick.”

“Yeah.” Teddy grins. “But not all of it.”

“Bloody hell, Ted.” James realises he’s _blushing_. He’s never showered with someone like this before, Teddy’s arms loose around him, hands smoothing water over his back and running lightly over the curve of his arse. 

“Keep it up and I won’t ever get the rest of it in.”

It’s not true, of course. James can see the calculation in Teddy’s eyes, and if he’s not mistaken, Teddy’s spent cock already feels a little firmer against his hip. But it’s not a _lie_ , either, not like _It doesn’t really count_. They’ll do the rest, eventually.

But… maybe not just yet.

“As it turns out,” James says, grinning back at him, “I think I can live with that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are lovely. Also, I'm on [tumblr](https://bixgirl1.tumblr.com/) *waves*


End file.
